It is strange being a Stay-at-home-Dad. For instance a chant of "ihopeiwinatoaster, ihopeiwinatoaster" floating up the basement steps. My nearly seven [eight] (now nine) ((now ten)) [[eleven]] {twelve} year-old twin boys concoct, devise, arrange, invent, write, say, imagine and dream the damndest things. Things that make me wonder. Ideas and stories that I may think on for days after I encounter them. I'll share some here. They made me do this.
Essential. Childhood. Nonsense. Explained.

Monday, September 9, 2013

"Haunted Hous"

The boys played Super Mario World yesterday for too long. I pulled the plug. Well, actually, I was trying to change a busted light fixture in the basement and, in attempting to find the right breaker, I turned off their game.

What's interesting is that after an initial bit of complaining they went on to do other things. They have only had a Wii a couple of years, if that, and I think they understand, somewhere deep down, that it is not really very satisfying. Oh it's fun and exciting and challenging but it doesn't really beat, say, washing a truck on a hot September Sunday:

Or compiling stats for your favorite Pokemon teammaking up a new gameplanningout your monthly budget doing something which involves a grid:

Or maybe a little math:

(I know it's messy, but, I had to open a calculator to do it myself):

Or even spending an afternoon making what was, arguably, the lamest...

...ever.

I'll set the scene. The boys are in the guest room, initially they went in there because they got too hot on the porch after the car-wash fiasco and a Gatorade, which as everyone knows must be consumed on the porch. Before long, a squirrel-like frenzy begins. There is giggling, drawing, taping, giggling, hushed conferring, oh, and a lot of string. (There are times when you just don't ask.) This goes on for perhaps an hour or two, dinner is served and we are invited to their "haunted house" after supper. Cool, sounds like fun, uh, I mean, that sounds scary...

So, after a somewhat rushed dinner, we duly, entered the haunted house. First Marci and then myself. Photos honestly can't do justice to the wonderful oddness we encountered (we tried to capture it on Mom's phone but, hey, it was dark, what part of haunted house don't you get?) but I took some anyway.

There was this spooky cat with a flashlight stuck up its illuminating it creepily, which you can't tell from the photo.

There was an obvious concealed trip line that connected a dead Furbee to a string of Mardi Gras beads. The Furbee fell, which was indeed scary because, well, Furbees are freaky alive or dead, and rattled the beads against the blanket holder in which was concealed a small child honking ominously on a flat harmonica.

There was a fan blowing scary paper streamers shaped like hands reaching out for you (well, not so much) behind which was concealed yet another small boy shining a laser all about and giggling creepily:

However the piece de risistance - at least in their minds - was this carefully rendered poster of "Mr Bloodhead" which hung ominously on the closet door:

I cannot begin to explain WHAT THE HELL THIS IS! However, they spent about thirty excited minutes bringing it to gory fruition. I can tell you that the football shaped thing at the top is his mouth, those two red spots are his creepy eyes, there is a sword through his neck, a few open wounds and anything red is blood. Yeah, lovely, I know...

In my opinion, the scariest thing in the whole room was, for some reason, this tipped over chair. From what I gather from listening through the closed door from their delightful conversation, there was a lot of decision-making as to where this chair would eventually end up and its final impact on the whole set:

I think they nailed it.

Finally, let me remove my tongue from my cheek and tell you a thing or two. I have been accused of making fun of the boys, especially when I do stuff like this. However, I hope you, gentle reader, can read between the lines and understand the tenderness with which I approach this stuff. Obviously, to shed light on it, to share it here in this public space, shows that I think it is worthy, funny, sweet, memorable, and, most of all terribly important.

Marci said it best when, after it was all over, after the pictures were taken, after our expressions and screams were dissected and reenacted, after it was cleaned up and we were sitting down to a snack before bed, she said: "I love the way you guys worked together to make it."

Yeah, that sums it up. We are so fortunate to have twins who, although, as I've said before, they would never admit it, are very good friends. They laugh together, they share the same sensibilities, laugh at the same stuff and, honestly, truly, love each other.

For that, and so much more, I am very thankful.

Just one more thing, if you look closely at a couple of the pictures you will see scattered about several colorful fake flower leis. I'd never thought of it before, but, somehow, in that beautiful, creepy, imagination-filled, lovingly rendered haunted house, they were pretty scary.

Thanks for coming around and sharing a memory with me. It's important. It's essential. It's nonsense that simply must not be forgotten.

from Marci's "... things you don't expect to hear form the backseat ..." "Those guys are missing something ... I know what it is ... death." (thank you video games)